Not that they seem all that concerned about their legacy at this point, but The Cure made a mighty strong case for why they’re one of the greatest pop bands of all time—the greatest pop?—Saturday night with a super-sized concert that covered every phase of their 30-year career. The set was dominated by hits . . .

The Milwaukee Ballet brought its season to an exuberant end with a finale that showcased the depth and breadth of the talent in this company, ranging from the classical to the modern, surefooted every step of the way. For sheer visual fun, Antony Tudor's take on the Moulin Rouge, "Offenbach in the Underworld" literally provided a glimpse of the "under" world of the can-can dancers (along with their frilly undergarments) as the different social classes meet up in an 1870s café, rife with jealousy, flirtations and ensuing brawls. Drawing upon the music of Jacques Offenbach, Tudor . . .

Sylvester Stallone’s grimacing killing machine, Rambo, became a symbol of jingoism in the Reagan era, applauded by many Americans and derided by others. Those with a queasy sense of irony even found him funny. In Son of Rambow (so spelled because of trademark difficulties), British writer-director Garth Jennings (The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy) would have us believe that the bulletproof avenger was capable of liberating the human imagination and inspiring a generation . . .

After last night’s show at the Rave, I can finally understand (some of) the logic in the age-old myth that women are more attracted to pompous and conceited dudes. Like every other member of the near-capacity Sunday night crowd, I fell hard for The Hives, even after constant boasting rants from singer Howlin' Pelle Almqvist.

There's nothing quite so deliciously satisfying to one's ironic sensibility than witnessing the "majority" cheer for the videotaped speechifying of Kouichi Touyama, a street musician who ran for governor of Tokyo in 2007.

Having built a reputation on their sweaty and raw live marathons, Scott and Seth Avett are known for lathering their adoring fan base into a manic frenzy. Saturday's raucous performance at Turner Hall Ballroom was no exception, a blowout that left attendees extremely satisfied.

There aren’t many real stars among instrumentalists in classical music today. Cellist Yo-Yo Ma is at the top of the list. In a gala performance with Milwaukee Symphony Orchestra last Wednesday night Ma portrayed Cervantes’ demented hero in Richard Strauss’ Don Quixote as convincingly as any dramatized version. We expect beautiful tone and masterful phrasing from Ma. I wasn’t prepared for his depth of humanity in this piece and overwhelming musical acting, portraying the character’s swoons, groans and palpable longing. The Don’s aching idealism ended with a heartbreaking death scene from Ma.

If used correctly, orchestral instruments have a place in contemporary pop music. Before assholes like the (eye-patch wearing pirate) singer from Kansas and Dave Mathews ruined it for . . .

Obesity and self-image are very serious issues in this country that rarely get directly addressed in contemporary drama. While Neil LaBute’s Fat Pig does very little to rectify this, these issues come to the center of a story so rarely that it ends up being very provocative. Renaissance Theaterworks ends its current season with the romantic drama, now through May 18.

Much of the crowd at last night’s sold-out Swell Season show was lured by one song: “Falling Slowly,” the endearingly modest ballad that the duo of Glen Hansard and Marketa Irglova memorably performed during the Academy Awards (and for which they took home an Oscar.) Having to live up to the expectations of that vulnerable, fish-out-of-water performance night after night must surely prove a challenge for the . . .